


Salt and Burn

by WingsandImpalas



Series: A place to roost [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arrested Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Cop Castiel, Dean's not going to hell don't worry, Deputy Castiel, Ghosts, Grave digging, Hunter Dean, M/M, One Night Stands, Sassy Dean Winchester, Shower Sex, a huge ass crush, flirting in bad situations, season two divergence, yes there is a pat-down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-24 05:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16633511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsandImpalas/pseuds/WingsandImpalas
Summary: “So Dean, why exactly were you digging up a grave?”Dean shifts, leaning forward to give Castiel a smile that’s undoubtedly charming. “Would you believe me if I said it was to save someone's life?“Not even a little bit,” Castiel says, smiling in return.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [tweet](https://twitter.com/angvlicas/status/986964441697849344?s=21) that [@fangirling_FTW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirling_FTW/pseuds/Fangirling_FTW/works?fandom_id=2031) tagged me in.
> 
> This was supposed to be a small ficlet I wrote for Halloween. It’s now the longest thing I’ve wrote this year and that’s just the first chapter and I want to finish it for NaNoWriMo. Big thanks to [@suckerfordeansfreckles](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/) for beta’ing this and giving me emotional support I’ve really needed it. 
> 
> I am not an American and all my cop knowledge comes from TV so ignore the inaccuratelys please I tried. I also had this [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4WeDcX13wAXrPatnlrSD31) playing sporadically while I was writing this so If you want to listen while you read please do.

Banner

The rain had started hours ago, and Castiel despises it. His boots now waterlogged, squelch with every movement he makes. His arms aching as he continues to dig into the mud.

Before this, Castiel had always assumed that 6ft under was just a saying - but now, standing neck deep in a waterlogged trench, he has a newfound respect for the gravediggers of the past. Because this is a fucking nightmare. Sticking the shovel into the dirt once again, Castiel braces himself for the squelch of mud only to find the bang of steel meeting pine.

Above him, there’s a delighted laugh. “Well, Cas, Looks like you just hit the jackpot,” Dean says, his mud-caked face smiling down at him. With an almost childish glee, Dean grabs the other shovel and carelessly drops down to join Castiel in the hole, splashing mud on his face.

Castiel glares at him. “Was that really necessary?”

“Nope,” Dean says, bumping against Castiel's shoulder. “You ready for this?” he asks, looking hesitantly at Castiel. Unaware that the change in his demeanour is stupidly endearing.

Castiel shrugs. “Not particularly.”

“It's not as bad as you think,” Dean says, smiling reassuringly. Then, without further ado, he lifts the shovel and slams it through the coffin lid.

 

**4 hours earlier…**

 

The thing about Castiel's job is that the punishment is supposed to match the crime. Or at least that's what he always thought as a young, carefree rookie. Now though, as he's staring down a stack of paperwork large enough to make a grown man cry, he begins to question that sentiment.  
Most of the paperwork isn't even his, for crying out loud.

It's just Sheriff Mills way of punishing him for undermining her authority. Apparently, he was not allowed to take Claire on a ride along to get experience - even if it was during his own hours - because Claire has already been told, repeatedly, that she’s not cut out for being a cop. 

Castiel personally doesn’t see the problem with Claire entering law enforcement. She's sharp-witted, determined and has a clear sense of justice. But since Sheriff Mills knows the job can be dangerous she thinks being a cop is not right for her young headstrong girl. Claire thinks this stance is highly hypocritical and begged Castiel to take her out instead and because Castiel is a sucker for puppy eyes he did exactly that. The ride along went well, so well in fact that it gave Claire even stronger enthusiasm for the job. Which lead to an argument that lasted two hours and Claire giving Jody the silent treatment.

Which is why he is here.

Despite half the night shift being out on patrol or out investigating the recent museum break-in, Castiel is chained to his desk, bored out of his mind. All because he got played by a 19-year-old girl. If Claire doesn't become a cop she might make a terrifying criminal.

Castiel spends the first hour of his shift contemplating the horrors of that and filling out forms, writing reports on burglary; domestic disputes and downing instant coffee. By the time it reaches the third hour, Castiel is finishing one of Jody's order forms for new printer paper and is slowly losing his goddamn mind. Until a commotion at the front gate gets his attention.

Looking up from his current order form, he sees Doug manhandling some guy in. Doug, as usual, is all smiles when he meets Nancy at the counter, chatting pleasantly as he picks up a clipboard.

The guy, however, just looks pissed. He stands there, handcuffed with wet hair flattened to his head and rain dripping from his leather jacket. A scowl on his face as he warily scans the room. Boredom making him curious. Castiel grabs his most recent file and takes it to the front desk, figuring he can use handing Nancy his finished paperwork as an excuse for being nosy.

Stepping behind Doug at the desk, Castiel stares at the side of the prisoners face. The guy looks over, catching Castiel's eye just briefly. It’s enough for Castiel to notice the green of his eyes. Getting just a glimpse of dirt under his cheek before the guy looks down at his feet, seemingly flustered.

Castiel taps his thumb against his file. He was not expecting the prisoner to be this attractive. Forcing himself to ignore it, he turns to Doug and watches as he puts a duffle bag on the counter. It clunks loudly enough for Castiel to raise an eyebrow. “Hello Doug,” he says, trying not to look at the prisoner. “Busy night?”

Doug huffs something like a laugh, adjusting his grip on his prisoner’s arm. “Naw, just a weird one?”

Castiel glances at the prisoner intrigued, weird just isn't something that happens a lot around here. “What kinda weird?”

Doug shrugs, looking uncomfortably at his prisoner. “Grave desecration.”

Castiel frowns, “Grave desecration?” he asks the prisoner.

The guy blinks up at him, looking slightly affronted at being addressed. “Err... I really don’t… I mean... I swear it wasn’t a sex thing!” He answers hurriedly, cheeks blazing.

Castiel stares at him. “Funnily enough, that was not where my mind was going.”

Blushing harder, the guy looks down at the ground again -- and if Castiel wasn’t slightly horrified by him, he’d probably find the gesture adorable.  
“It wasn’t a satanic thing either!” The guy defends as if he really thinks that’s any better.

Nancy coughs, adjusting the rosary around her neck. Castiel watches, amused as the prisoner winces at the gesture. “You know you’re just making it sound like you did it for both those reasons, right?” Castiel asks, to be an ass.

“I know that!” the prisoner snaps, glaring at his shoes.

Nancy let’s go of her rosary beads and looks down at the desk. “Um…. Here are his booking papers, Deputy Whitmore.” Doug jumps, looking appalled at the idea of booking this guy.

Castiel looks at the prisoner one last time, resisting the urge to smirk. He is just bored enough to find this entertaining. “I’ll do it,” he offers, trying not to laugh at the look of pure adoration Doug give him.

“You sure?” he asks hopefully.

Castiel rolls his eyes, taking the folder and the duffle for booking. "Course I am, or else I wouldn’t have offered.” Doug nods, then passes him the prisoner, who shuffles ashamedly to Castiel's side.

Grabbing hold of him, Castiel grips the strong curve of the prisoner's forearm as he leads him towards the cells. Like most things in the Sheriff's office, the room is painfully tiny. Containing two cells on the left side and a small side desk for the supervising officer. Who like most of the night shift is out having fun at patrol meaning this desk is now becoming Castiel's for the foreseeable future. Dean glances around, hands clinking in the cuffs as Castiel leads him to the chair. Sitting on the other side, Castiel opens the folder and glances at the prisoner. “What's your name?”

“Dean Bloom.” The guy says. Castiel writes it down then, asks each of the personal questions like his Age, Date of Birth and Hometown systematically. Dean answers just as quickly, letting Castiel know he's 29, born on the 1st of December and despite his accent, he’s really is from New York. Castiel raises his eyebrow at one, but figures he can check Dean's I.D. later on. Eventually, he gets through the personal questions. Castiel puts his hands on the table and looks Dean in the eye. “So Dean, why exactly were you digging up a grave?”

Dean shifts, leaning forward to give Castiel a smile that’s undoubtedly charming. “Would you believe me if I said it was to save someone's life?”

“Not even a little bit,” Castiel says, smiling in return.

“Fine, it was part of a hazing.” Dean says with a lazy shrug.

“You're trying to be a frat boy?” Castiel asks,trying and failing to picture it.

Dean shrugs. “Mature students got to fit in somehow.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, doubting every word coming out of Dean's mouth. “I’ll need your fingerprints, Mr Bloom.”

Dean shrugs, lifting his cuffed hands as Castiel gets the ink and flips the paper around. He grabs Dean's left hand, stroking lightly over scarred knuckles as he guides him to the ink pad. Noting that Dean's a fighter of some sort. Before coating each finger marked in ink before pressing it down on paper. Dean doesn't react, watching the side of Castiel's face instead. “You know, Deputy, I don't think I got your name.”

Castiel shakes his head moving to Dean's right hand. “It's on my name tag.”

“I can see that Deputy Collins, I was wondering if I could get your first?” Dean says looking up from under his lashes.

Castiel rolls his eyes and presses Dean's other hand into the ink. “No, Deputy Collins will do for now,” he says looking at Dean's hand, noticing a small circle shaped scar, no bigger than a thumbnail at the base of his ring finger. “What’s that?” He asks.

Dean shifts in his seat, looking down at his file. “It’s just an old burn.”

“Weird place,” Castiel says, pressing his fingers into the ink and onto the paper when he’s done. 

Dean sighs, leaning back into his chair. “What’s really weird is the fact that you won’t tell me your name.”

“Why do you want it?”

Dean winks. “I just thought we should get acquainted before the pat-down.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “You’ve done this before?”

“Nope,” Dean says, confidently. “But I watch T.V. I know how this works.”

Castiel shrugs, doubting him once again. He just won’t know for sure if Dean's being truthful or not till he runs his prints. “You need to get your picture taking first.”

Dean grins, moving with Castiel as he places Dean in front of the board handing him the slate. “Should I do my best Blue-Steel?”

“If you want,” Castiel mutters fighting a smile. He knows most of his colleagues would probably find Dean infuriating, but there's something about Dean that Castiel finds charming instead. It's something he's gonna have to tap down unless he wants to find himself on an official probation. He's already on Jody's bad side. Flirting with a prisoner will only make it worse.

[](http://i.imgur.com/xRTcGdD)

Dean, unaware of the tension he's creating, proceeds to pull the stupidest pouting-face he can. Grinning like a loon as he turns to the side for the second photo without prompting. Castiel narrows his eyes at that. Dean has definitely done this before.

Taking the slate out of Dean's hands, he pulls him into the center of the room and grabs gloves off the table. Dean winks at him, Castiel rolls his eyes. “So Dean, what kind of frat asks its pledges to dig graves?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “A stupid one,” he says as Castiel moves his hands over Dean’s shoulders.

Castiel shakes his head, patting along Dean's arms. “I figured that. I was just asking what school you're in?” 

“USF,” Dean says, jumping slightly when Castiel skims his hands along Dean's waist.  
“ Ticklish? ” Castiel asks innocently.

Dean licks his lips. “Yeah, something like that.”

Moving his hands to his pockets, Castiel pulls out Dean's wallet and what looks like a ring in a ziplock bag. He pulls it closer, noticing the thick gold band and black seal at the top. A signet ring, then. “Did you take this from the grave?” Castiel asks, figuring robbery makes more sense than the hazing bullshit.

“No,” Dean says hastily, Castiel glares at him. “I didn't get that far down, okay? It's a family thing.”

“Why’s it in your pocket?”

Dean looks away. “Books are expensive. I was going to sell it for some cash, you know?”

“After you dug a grave?”

“Yes,” Dean says, shifting nervously. “Now can you please put it down.”

“Why?” Castiel asks, still staring at the ring.

Dean bites his lip. “It's delicate.”

“Yes clearly. That's why it's in your pocket.”

“Deputy, please,” Dean says, sounding uneasy. “Just put it down.”

Castiel does, putting both it and the wallet on the table along with Dean's duffel bag. Unsure as to why Dean's acting so shifty, Castiel steps back and searches Dean's other jacket pocket. He pulls out a cheap zippo and a packet of matches but no cigarettes. “Were you going to sell whatever else you found in the grave?” He asks depositing the items.

“No,” Dean says, and despite all the lies, Castiel believes him. Moving on, Castiel slips his hands under Dean's jacket to feel around his waist and slowly sliding them down to the waistband of Dean's jeans. Dean tilts his head, cheeks blazing. Meeting his gaze, Castiel watches as Dean's pupils dilate slightly and smirks before dropping to his knees.

“Ugh… Deputy?” Dean says, voice low.

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel asks looking down to move his hand down Dean's mud-clad leg. He really needs to stop finding Dean’s reactions so intriguing.

Dean bites his lip. “Promise me you won't touch the ring,” he says seriously. Castiel skims his hand down Dean's other leg, shaking his head. He has no idea why he expected Dean to say something else.

“I can't. It's evidence. I need to log it in, you should know that from all you ‘cop shows’” 

Dean blinks. “Did you just use finger quotes.”

“Yes,” Castiel says, standing up and uncuffing Dean. “Remove your belt please.”

“What?” Dean asks, cheeks pink. Castiel didn't notice he had freckles until now.

“It's procedure, you can’t have a weapon in there.” Castiel explains, holding out his hand as Dean grumble’s under his breath. Undoing his belt and awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

Cas takes it using his keys to unlock the cell doors before turning to Dean again. “Step inside, please.”

Dean does, looking around the cell curiously as Castiel closes the door. “These bars, are they made of iron?” Dean asks hesitantly.

“Yes, they are,” Castiel says, locking the gate. When he glances up, Dean's shoulders are looser, from a tension Castiel didn’t even notice being released. He sits on the bench to rub the marks on his wrists.

Castiel stares at him. He can’t help himself, Dean's not the first attractive prisoner he’s seen in that cell. He’s also not the weirdest crime, (the clown who punched Castiel in the face, for not laughing at his jokes still takes the cake) but Castiel is fascinated. Despite his strange behavior and even stranger questions. He shouldn’t be, outside of being a convict Dean is clearly is a liar and a flirt and yet Castiel likes him. Jody is never going to let him leave his desk after this.

Stepping back from the cells, Castiel moves to the desk and turns his back to Dean. He has paperwork to log and Dean's items to pack, he doesn't have time to develop a crush. Sadly though, Dean doesn't seem to care if Castiel loses his sanity. Instead, he’s humming under his breath. An upbeat, rock song that sounds slightly out of tune in Dean's voice. Castiel smiles despite himself, pulling open Dean’s wallet to find a drivers licence proving that his name actually is Dean Bloom and he is from New York, but the cards does say he lives in South Dakota now. Castiel puts the card down and flips through the wallet, pulling out two crumpled twenties; a credit card in Dean's name and a folded up photo. He opens it, seeing a pregnant woman with golden hair; a man with the beginnings of a salt and pepper beard and a happy smiling boy.

“That’s my family,” Dean says, sprawled out on the bench. There's something broken in his voice, an old kind of grief that clings to his words. Folding the photo back up, Castiel meets Dean's sad eyes through the bars. “You we’re a cute kid,” Castiel says putting the wallet down. Dean tries and fails to smile. Castiel puts the photo down.

Moving past the wallet, Castiel unzips the duffel removing two canisters of salt and lighter fluid. He wants to leave Dean with whatever grief he's feeling but the contents here makes no sense. “What the hell? Dean, why do you have so much salt?”

“I was going to a graveyard, you think I’m not gonna bring some protection?”

“Protection from what?”

Dean taps his fingers against his stomach. “Ghosts.”

Castiel doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does anyway. Dean sits up with a sigh. “Yeah, Yeah I get that reaction a lot.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Are you a ghost hunter, Mr Bloom?”

“Maybe,” Dean says crossing his arms.

“So that's why you were in a graveyard,” Castiel mutters, putting the salt away.

Dean sighs, “Yeah, that's exactly it, too bad I got arrested.” Castiel laughs and Dean grins softly, not meeting Castiel’s eye.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Castiel says finally, turning away from him. Despite Dean's smile he can't help feeling that he missed something important.

Back at the desk, he lifts the ziplock bag from the pile to stare at the ring inside. It really is a beautiful piece, and despite what Dean told him he wants to touch. He has to touch it, maybe even wear it. Turning his back from Dean completely, he opens the bag and pours the ring into his palm. Running his fingers over the thick, knotted gold band he places it carefully on his ring finger. Surprisingly it fits perfectly, like it was made for him . Entranced, he runs his thumb over the warm metal until he reaches the seal. It's a simple design, really. An ornate J is placed in the centre, surrounded by knotted ivy, on the flat black surface. When he thumbs over the raised edges the heat increases. Castiel gasps, tearing the ring off his finger.

“Deputy? You alright?” Dean asks from behind the bars.  
Startled Castiel turns, pressing his hand over the burning mark left on his finger. “I'm fine.” He gasps, staring in shock at the red welt left on his hand. “Just got a papercut. I got to go get a bandage or something.” Jumping up from his desk he shoots Dean a reassuring grin. “Be right back,” he mutters, fleeing from the room.

Striding quickly through the hall, Castiel passes Nancy in the bullpen and slides into the bathroom. Turning on the tap to the coldest setting, He shoves his burnt hand under the stream. Breathing heavily, Castiel looks down at the mark the ring left behind. It's eerily similar to the one on Dean's. A straight oval, with a “J” in ivy. Exactly like the seal on the ring. “This is insane,” Castiel says as the bathroom light above him starts to flicker. Breathing deeply Castiel watches horrified as his breath becomes visible in the freezing cold room.

“What is happening?” he asks into the empty room. On his left, the second sink comes to life, freezing cold water blasting out of the pipe. Stumbling backwards, Castiel looks up into the mirror as a dark shakey figure floats towards him. The shape flickers under the lights, shaping into the shadowed figure of a man with a wide brim hat. The water continues to pour.

Castiel runs.

Boots pounding on the tiles as he slams into the hallway outside. Immediately, the temperature rises. Breathing heavily, he falls against the wall. “Castiel, are you okay?” Nancy yells from the reception desk pulling down the radios headphones.

Trembling, he starts towards the desk. He could tell Nancy what he saw. Maybe she’d even believe him, but he also knows that’d she’d be terrified. Dean on the other hand, despite being a liar and criminal; is the owner of the ring; bears the same oval mark and oddly believes in ghosts. Somehow Castiel doesn't think that's a coincidence. By the time he reaches the desk, he's made his decision. “I'm fine Nance. I just tripped,” he says smiling falsely.

“You sure? You’re as white as a sheet,” she asks worriedly.

“I'm fine, really. Is there any word on when Jody will be back?”

“Actually, she just called in with her ETA. The rains left her a bit delayed after the whole museum thing.”

“Yeah, did she find out what was taken?”

“An old ring,” Nancy says, leaving Castiel’s head spinning. “It's not worth much, though. Jody figured the thief thought it was worth more because they left without taking anything else. She should be back in twenty minutes or so.”

“Thanks, Nance. I gotta go check on De - the prisoner.” Castiel says, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, before hurrying to the cells. Nancy's faint “Okay...” following him down the hallway.

“Hey, Deputy,” Dean says, smiling as he innocently steps back from his perch on the bench.

Castiel wastes no time in humouring him. “Did you steal that ring from the museum?”

“... No.” Dean says unconvincingly. Rubbing his thumb over the brand.

“Stop fucking around, Dean. Did you steal that ring?” Castiel snaps, hitting the bar.

Dean jumps, “Yes I stole it.” Dean says, looking down. “Are you going to charge me for that too?”

“No.” Castiel snaps, pacing across the room. “Next question, are you actually a ghost hunter?”

“Deputy,” Dean says warily. “What are you talking about?” Castiel lifts up his hand, to show brand.

“You put the fucking ring on!” Dean yells, scanning the room.

Castiel folds his arms across his chest, “So did you.”

“Yeah, but I warned you not to.”

“Does it have anything to do with what I just saw in the bathroom?”

“You saw the ghost?”

“I - I saw something.”

“A ghost?”

“No - No, there's no such thing as ghosts.”

“Deputy, I don't have time to give you the talk but you’ve got to calm down and let me out of here.”

“No. I can’t - Dean, you're a felon. I have a job to do and - Why are you staring at me like that.” Castiel asks, shivering, the room suddenly shockingly cold.

“Deputy - please step towards the bars,” Dean says staring Castiel in the eye.

Fingers trembling, Castiel takes a cautious step forward. Only to be pulled back seconds later by a freezing cold grip on his throat. “Deputy!” Dean yells gripping the bars. Castiel shoves forward, fighting against the grip, but it's too strong. Instead, he's flung back against the desk. The shape shifts, more solid now, appearing like a desaturated man, walking towards him in a strobing pattern. His clothes are old and dust riddled, and despite his faded appearance, a red bullet wound steadily drips blood, vanishing when it makes contact with the ground. “You have been marked for death,” it groans, stepping forward.

Castiel shuffles back, flinching at the pain bursting down his side. “Deputy, listen to me very carefully,” Dean says calmly. “Get the salt.”

“Salt?!” Castiel yells back, failing to see how a fucking condiment is going to help him this situation. The ghost moves forward, cold hands grasping at Castiel's shoulders. It lifts him up against the wall. Just barely close enough to grasp Dean's duffel bag from the desk.

“Yes! The salt!” Dean yells, slamming against the bars. “It's for protection, remember?”

Castiel tries to reach for the bag just as the ghost reaches for his neck. “Get off him, you bastard!” Dean yells, banging against the cell. The ghost turns grip tightening on Castiel's throat. Roaring over its shoulder at Dean. Reaching blindly, Castiel grasp for the bag. His fingers barely catching the strap. He tugs hard and the duffle falls. His vision darkens as the bag hits the ground, salt spilling over the ghost's feet. When it hits, the ghost screams and turns to smoke.

Castiel falls the ground. “What the fuck…” he mumbles, rubbing his bruised throat.

“Jesus! Deputy, are you okay?” Dean asks, stretching out through the bars.

“I’m fine.” Castiel groans, using the wall to support himself as he stands, “It's Castiel by the way.”

“What?” Dean asks, stepping away from the bars.

Castiel says joking through his shock. “You see me almost die. You get my first name.”

Dean laughs. “Fuck, if that’s what it takes to get your name I don't want to know what it would take to get your number.”

Castiel shakes his head. “A way to kill a ghost.”

Dean smiles, “It involves digging up a grave.”

“So that wasn't about Necrophilia?” Castiel says, trying to smile back.

“No it was not Jackass,” Dean says with a laugh. “Tell you what, let me out off here and I’ll kill the damn thing for you. Then maybe you can buy me dinner.”

“No,” Castiel says, leaning against the desk.

“No? You’re telling me that you don't want to buy me dinner?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Just because your charming and I saw ghost doesn't mean I can just let you go, I like my job, Dean.”

“What? Really?” Dean whines, wrapping his hand around the bars. “I’m marked for death too, you know? I can't just sit in here waiting for that ghost to come back and kill us both.”

Castiel freezes. “It can come back?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “That fucker’s staying here until I salt and burn the bones.”

“Who was it anyway?”

“A Judge. His name Jacob Greenman. Lived sometime around the 1800s, and he was probably one of the most aggressive Judges in this area. Hung a lot of people, for crimes that weren’t exactly worthy of that kind of punishment. Earned quite the reputation too, he was eventually killed by locals. But before his demise, it was said that any certificate signed by Greenman was a seal of death.”

“Let me guess, that ring was his seal?”

“Yup, and by putting it on you automatically earn yourself the death sentence.”

“So why did you put it on.”

Dean sighs, scratching at the rising pink on his neck. “I don't know. There was some kinda compulsion or something to just throw caution to the wind. Greenman's been around awhile and he only picks people who deserve punishment. I guess the B&E counted. ” Dean smirks. “So what’d you do Deputy?”

Castiel thinks back to the moment he put on the ring when he was debating the rules on seducing a prisoner. There's no way a ghost would want to kill him for that but his only other sin is - “Subverting the Sheriff's authority.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “What did you two go toe to toe over the coffee supply?”

Castiel shrugs, “It's complicated, let's just leave it as the Sheriff is mad at me.”

“Fine don't tell me. Can you at least let me out of here so I can do my job?"

“No. Dean I already told you, I don't have that kind of authority.”

“Cas, dude, you do realise that ghost will come back and kill you if I don’t salt and burn the bones in the next hour or so, right?”

“I know that. But I still can’t let you out, Dean. I need to ask the Sheriff.”

“Yeah, She's not gonna let me outta here.”

“Why not?” Castiel asks optimistically. “She tends to be a forgiving person and you said this was your first time being arrested?”

“C’mon, that was obviously a lie. Though I must admit you’re definitely the prettiest Deputy to arrest me.”

Despite confronting an actual fucking ghost, Castiel is still able to roll his eyes. “First of all, Doug arrested you. Secondly, do you always flirt when you’re in trouble?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda my thing.”

“You must have hit on a lot of ghosts, then.”

“Eh.” Dean shrugs, his eyes sparkling, “Maybe one or two.”

“Well then maybe you can charm Sheriff Mills into giving you a citation and a stern talking to.”

“Maybe.” Dean says not looking very hopeful. “It depends on whether you’ve run my prints yet?”

“No, I’ve been a little busy,” Castiel says, tilting his head towards the pile of salt on the floor. He’s really gonna have to clean that up. “What would happen if I did anyway?”

Dean sighs, “Let’s just say with what I do my record isn’t exactly squeaky clean.”

“Ghost hunting is a job for criminals, good to know,” Castiel says shaking his head. He can barely get his mind around the fact that ghosts exist, but after experiencing what he did tonight he’s pretty sure the people in Dean's profession need a medal and some amazing insurance. 

Dean though doesn’t seem too bothered about the fact his job of saving lives causes him to wind up in chains. Instead, he shrugs casually like it’s no big deal. “Well, yeah, I mean there's B&Es, salt and burns and that’s just the ghost stuff. Things get really illegal when other creatures are involved.”

“Other creatures?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I need to sit down,” Castiel says, wobbling unsteadily to the desk

Dean sighs rubbing the back of his neck. “Look buddy. Don’t worry about all this stuff okay. The second I get outta of here I’ll fry that fucker and get out of your hair.”

“You really think I’m gonna let you go out there and kill that thing on your own?”

“Ummm - yeah. Seeing as that’s my job.”

“That thing nearly killed me!”

“Exactly! You should stay here go home and forget about this.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “No. I’m coming with you.”

“Even if it means your life? C’mon man be realistic, this isn’t my first solo hunt. I’ll be fine.”

“Dean,” Castiel says glaring at him through the bars. Dean glares back, searching Castiel's eyes, for any trace of fear or defeat. “I’m lighting the fucking match over that thing, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Why?”

“It almost killed me. I’m not letting it get away with that.”

“Jesus, there’s no need to go full Inigo Montoya just cause it tried to crush your windpipe.”

“Seeing as I’m mad about my almost death, not my father that reference is inaccurate.”

Dean groans, “Cas that thing may have almost killed you but with other people, it's succeeded. It's my job to be sure that doesn't happen you as well.” 

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “You’re not the only dumbass in this room whose job is to protect people. If it's killed other people that makes it a danger to my town and therefore my job as well. Besides, I'm already marked. It's gonna come after me again, right? I deserve a say in how that goes down.”

“Dammit, I said it might come after you again. Might.” Dean mutters, scrubbing his hand over his jaw. Castiel glares at him. “Okay fine, fine you can come. Stop it with the murder eyes geez.”

Castiel smiles smugly, Dean rolls his eyes. “You’ve got to promise me you’ll do everything I say and if the ghost shows up again you let me deal with it.”

Castiel sighs, “I promise. I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re an annoying dick, it’s not like I’m trying to save your life or anything.”

“I appreciate it, Dean. I do, but I’m not the kind of person that lets someone put themselves in harm's way for me.”

Dean shifts, giving Castiel an assessing once-over. “How are you at digging graves?” Dean asks, licking his lips.

Castiel looks down at the desk, face surprisingly flushed. “It’s not something I’ve done before but I believe I’m up to the challenge.”

Dean smiles warmly and Castiel feels a similar warmth echoing in his chest for this strange flirtatious man that was perp-walked into his life. “Cas -” Dean starts as the front door bangs open, followed by a hoard of boots tapping on the linoleum floor.

Castiel sighs. ”Sheriffs back.”

“So does that mean I can get out now?” Dean asks bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Castiel shrugs, stepping into the doorway to look out at the well-lit bullpen. It looks exactly like it always has, boring and familiar, and yet he feels like a stranger to it after what he had just witnessed. Jody glances over at him, a frown settling in on her face. Regretfully she puts down her coffee cup and makes her way over.

“Hey, Cas.” She says, smiling falsely.

“Hello, Sheriff. How was the museum?”

Jody sighs, “Honestly it was a bust. The perp was long gone by the time we got there, didn't even trip a single alarm. The museum only noticed because the damn ring was gone but it’s not like we got any prints.”

“Don't worry Sheriff we’ll get them eventually.” Castiel says trying not to grin, he can’t help being impressed by Dean's skills. Despite his arrest, Dean might actually be just as good as he claims to be.

“How about you? Doug says you offered to book his Satan-worshiping necrophiliac instead of doing your paperwork.” Jody says with a raised eyebrow and her mom voice. Before confronting a ghost, that voice was the scariest thing Castiel ever witnessed. It still has him standing straight and to attention. 

“I basically finished anyway,” Castiel says avoiding eye contact. “He’s uh - actually a dumb want to be frat boy, not a necrophiliac.”

“Hazing?” Jody asks in the same terrifying tone.

Castiel sighs, “Unfortunately. First time being arrested too, he keeps making dumb jokes to show he's not freaking out inside.”

Jody nods, then turns to Castiel, a small frown-line forming in her forehead. “You feeling okay Cas? You sound hoarser than usual.”

Castiel coughs and resists the urge to rub his sore throat, knowing it will expose the redness currently hidden by his collar to Jody's keen eyes. “I think I might be coming down with something,” he say’s hoarsely. “It's making me kind of clumsy I managed to knock over the idiot's bag of pranks earlier.”

“He had a bag?”

Thinking on his feet, Castiel says, “Apparently the goal was to dig the grave and surround it with salt so it would look satanic and make it in the paper.”

Jody rolls her eyes, “These frat kids get stupider and stupider every year. Tell you what you go get a broom and I’ll go give this guy a warning. I might even drive him back to campus and lecture the other kids as well.”

“I’ll do it.”

“You sure? I mean no offence Cas but you look like crap. I was going to send you home.”

“It’s fine, I want to see this one through. Besides, I've been chained to my desk all day instead of doing my job.”

Jody scowls, “Well next time don't piss me off.” she says fighting a smile.

Castiel laughs. “I promise I’ll radio in to tell you I made it and go home straight after.

“You better, Claire is making dinner tomorrow and you're invited.”

“She’s speaking to you again?”

Jody rolls her eyes. “Yes. I may have been a little bit too hard on her. I just worry you know? A kid like her will always see something wrong with the world and immediately wants to run in and fix it.”

Castiel nods, saying nothing since he’s exactly the same. Looking back on it, it's entirely possible that Claire learned a little bit too much from him during the hours he spent babysitting.

“She’ll be fine.” He says eventually moving swiftly down the hall before Jody realises this and gives him more paperwork to do. “I’ll just go get a broom.”

Jody says nothing about his swift exit but Castiel keeps up the pace anyway. Rushing to grab a dustpan and broom. He spends the whole time dreading the thought of the ghost making another appearance. Looking over his shoulder while rummaging through the maintenance closet then speed walking down the hallway. When he re-enters the cell room Jody is mid-lecture, standing military straight with her hands on her hips. “ - The fine Deputy Novak is going to write you will be used to pay the damages you made to public property and your damn lucky I'm not giving you community service along with it.”

Castiel looks down trying not to smirk at Dean's wide eye look when facing Jody's wrath. From the glare he receives from both of them, he's probably failed.

“Get too sweeping you.” Jody snaps.

Castiel gives her a mock salute, almost giddy now that he made it down the hall safely. Sweeping away the salt, Castiel allows himself a small moment to appreciate the fact that he's alive. Something he’s been unable to do with Dean and Jody pestering him. Zoning out Castiel sweeps and remembers the frigid feeling of fingers on his neck. The shivers that raced down his spine when the temperature dropped, the panic in Dean's voice when he flew through the air.

Faintly he hears Jody say, “-puty? Deputy Collins?”

“Yeah?” Castiel says, surprised to see all the salt gathered in the dustpan.

“I’m just gonna let Dean out of his cell,” Jody says, turning the key on the lock. “You sure your okay to drive?”

“I'm fine.” Castiel snaps, ignoring Jody and Dean's worried looks. He is fine, He's alive and he's got a ghost to kill. “C’mon Dean, let's go.”

Dean smiles sheepishly at Jody as Castiel grabs his stuff from the desk and passes it over. He hides the ring in his own pocket before Jody can spot it. “Goodnight Sheriff,” he says once the deed is done.

Dean slides up beside him, still playing the part of the penitent convict till they leave the building. Castiel walks over to his squad car, spinning the keys around his finger. “Now what?”

Dean grins, “Now we go find my fucking car.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long school is kicking my ass right now and my writing time is pretty much a fifteen minute window. I hope to have the next chapter up before the end of the month though so dont worry, I am also hoping to have finished the next chapter of [A wing and a prayer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031567/chapters/37418741) by the end of the week so keep your eye on that if your currently reading and if your not but like my writing and are interested in prophet Cas I'd recommend you check it out.

Dean's car, Castiel learns is a 1967 Chevrolet Impala making it undeniably a thing of beauty. It is also an object Dean can and will talk about endlessly in the ten minutes it takes to drive to the strip mall parking lot Dean hid “her” in. Castiel mostly listens to Dean's awe-filled monologue, nodding in the right places and watching as Dean's leg bounces in the footwell. Castiel can't tell if this excitement comes from the anticipation of the hunt, or his need to be behind the wheel again.

Truefully Castiel doesn't understand much of Dean's vehicular love until he sees the Impala itself. The dark shape glitters under his headlights, smooth chrome and dark steel that glistens in the rain. Showcasing sharp angles and smooth curves that make up its frankly enormous size. It's loud and bold, dangerous and mysterious, the kind of car everyone would turn to see and smile when witnessing her glory. Castiel couldn't think of a more perfect match for Dean if he tried.

From the corner of his eye, Castiel watches as Dean smiles smugly at whatever expression has found its way onto his face. “Cas,” he says proudly. “Meet Baby.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Of course you gave it a name.”

Dean scoffs, “C’mon man look at her and tell me she doesn't deserve a name. What are you some kind of bus riding heathen?”

“Actually I ride an Indiana Scott.”

“The bike?”

“Yes.”

“Huh - We should probably go get the shovels and - ugh stuff.” Dean says, scratching the back of his neck.   
Castiel smiles smugly. “And stuff?”

“Yeah, Yeah.” Dean mutters, flushing slightly, “shut up and move it, Deputy.”

Castiel laughs and turns of the car, following Dean into the rain, watching as he lovingly runs his hand over the chrome. “So Deputy you're definitely not gonna arrest me again, right?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, glaring at Dean's scarred hand and shrugs. “Probably not.”

“Good!” Dean says popping the trunk, revealing what seems to be another duffel filled with clothes and an emergency road repair kit shoved into the back. Castiel raises his eyebrow failing to see what was so arrest worthy inside. That is until Dean lifts the false bottom.

Inside is a neatly organised stockpile. Handguns and shotguns and bullets; knives made of silver and gold and bronze; herbs and spices and pungent gun oil; tubs of salt and crowbars; brass knuckle and machetes; all hidden by a two feet wide felt piece that Dean casually holds up with a sawed-off shot shotgun.

“You're wanted in a lot of states aren’t you?” Castiel asks, horrified.

“Yup,” Dean says proudly “The whole Winchester family has probably made the FBI most wanted list like three times.”

“Winchester? I thought your name was Bloom.” Castiel asks as Dean starts throwing a shotgun into his duffel.

Dean laughs, picking up another canister of salt. “C’mon man you so knew that was a fake ID.”

Castiel shrugs. “I knew you weren’t from New York but I had no way of knowing what information was true and what wasn’t.”

“Well names Dean Winchester, I was born in January 79’ not December and I’m from Kansas, not New York.”

Castiel nods at the new information but there's something about Dean's name nagging him that he can't ignore. “Winchester- Wasn't that the name of the St Louis Slasher?”

Dean groans. “Okay so technically that's me but it wasn't actually me. It was a shapeshifter that took my form and murdered a lot of women, so I shot him in the back.”

“Okay…”

“How the hell do you remember that anyway it was like 4 years ago?”

“Cop.”

“St Louis is not exactly your jurisdiction. Don't tell me you're like my brother and are a Murder fanboy, it will ruin my respect for you.”

“No!” Castiel says defensively. “I just finished at the academy and it was - um -” Distracted, Castiel swallows down his sentence as Dean reaches into the back of the  
trunk to grab two shovels. The movement causes his shirt to slip up a little revealing the smooth skin at the dip of Dean's back. Castiel licks his lips and looks at a steadily growing puddle instead. “ - it was a pretty big case.” He finishes, face red.

“Huh,” Dean says throwing him a shovel. Castiel grabs it on instinct staring at the raindrops clinging to Dean's lashes.

Dean smirks, lifting his duffel over one shoulder. “Cemeteries this way.” He says turning the corner.

“We’re not driving?” Castiel asks squinting at Dean through the rain.

“Our cars aren't exactly inconspicuous.” Dean points out, which is totally fair but Castiel is already starting to hate his existence just standing soaking wet by the cars.

“We’ll get wet digging anyway.” Dean reminds him. Castiel groans reluctantly following Dean down through the two blocks to the cemetery.

“You know the town pretty well,” Castiel observes just as the cemetery gates come into view.

Dean shrugs, “I have family nearby, I tend to stay with them between jobs.”

“Do they hunt too?”

“Yeah, I mean Bobby's not exactly young anymore so he's more of a network for other hunters at this point, helps us with research, pretends to be our boss in the FBI that kind of thing.”

“You - You pretend to be the FBI?”

Dean shrugs innocently, “Sometimes.” Castiel sighs in despair, forgetting firing him for flirting. If Jody found out who he was helping he’d be lucky not to end up in a cell himself.

The cemetery gates are unsurprisingly padlocked tight. Dean kneels and pulls a lock-picking kit out of his boot. Castiel shakes his head unsurprised, “What about your brother?”

“What about him?” Dean says gruffly, almost dropping the pick.

It occurs to Castiel that in Dean's profession his brother could very well be dead. Carefully he continues “Earlier you said you had a brother, I was just wondering if he hunts too.”

Dean looks at the lock, shoulders hunched and face blank. “No.” He says after what feels like forever. “He used too but - He got hurt, someone tried to kill him. Hell, he probably would have died if the son of a bitch hadn’t tripped and Sam hadn’t turned around, kids lucky all he lost was a fucking kidney.”

“And the guy that did it?” Castiel asks hesitantly.

“I shot him,” Dean says meeting Castiel's gaze with cold wary eyes.

In any other situation, Castiel would condemn him. If Dean was just a man living in his town Castiel would throw him in jail without thinking twice because that's how the law works. But Dean is outside of Castiel laws, he’s a hunter who kills monsters for fuck's sake. Who is Castiel to judge him for just doing his job, for protecting his family from the awful out there when up until tonight he didn't know those awful things existed. A million thoughts run through his head, there’s so much he could say here, condemning words, congratulatory phrases. He uses none of them. “I’m glad Sams doing okay now.”

Shock flickers over Dean's face quick as a flash before he covers it up by breathing a laugh. “Kids doing better than okay, he’s got a kick-ass girlfriend, Sarah, and is well on his way to a community college degree.”

“Good,” Castiel says with a hesitant smile. The padlock falls and Castiel puts out his hand, Dean grips his hand firmly as he stands but doesn't let go. Castiel looks down at their intertwined fingers then at Dean's beautiful eyes, saying nothing. Dean clears his throat and pushes open the gate into the cemetery. Reluctantly Castiel let go and grabs his torch of his tool belt instead, shining it over the headstones. “Which way?”

“Left,” Dean says pointing with his shovel, towards the older more neglected part of the cemetery. Castiel nods and they walk in silence, until they reach a hastily taped of plot around the beginning of a trench.

“I take it this is the one?” Castiel asks.

“Yup,” Dean says dropping the duffel to the ground and jumping down into the hole, triumphantly lifting a shotgun from a pile of dirt. “I managed to hide this before your cop buddy showed up. You should take it since the ghost was so active earlier. We’re gonna have to take turns between digging and standing guard”

“Okay,” Castiel says holding the gun warily, he’s used to a more compact weapon. “So wait you can shoot a ghost?” 

“Not with regular bullets. The rounds are made of rock salt so its effective, iron works too but the only thing that will get rid of it completely is some good old kerosene and a pack of matches.” 

“The bars from the jail cell were made of iron!” Castiel says suddenly remembering Dean's weird question from the jail. “That's why it didn't come after you.”

“Yup, It probably wouldn't have even sensed me there or shown up in the station if you didn't decide to put the ring on.”

“It compelled me to do it!”

“Yeah, yeah so you’ve said,” Dean says, glancing around the trench before stepping inside. “You just haven't explained why that got you in trouble.”

“So?” Castiel says, adjusting his grip on the shotgun just as Dean starts to dig.

“So, I’ve basically blabbed at least half of my life story and you’ve given me nothing in return. It's not fair man, especially because I’m curious.”

“And why are you curious, Dean?” Castiel asks subtly.

Dean looks up, face slightly flushed from digging and meets Castiel's gaze before dropping to his mouth instead. “I’ve got my reasons.”  
“What kind of reasons?” Castiel asks, voice dropping slightly. His previous anxiety of flirting with Dean disappearing now that his jobs not on the line.At least as long as they don’t get caught out here.

Dean rolls his eyes and resumes digging. “Stop distracting me and tell me what you did Cas.”

“Won't me telling you be a distraction?”

“Yes - No - Shut up.”

“If I shut up I can't tell you what I did.”

“Holy shit you're annoying,” Dean says laughing, Castiel smiles, dazed by how beautiful Dean looks like that, even if he is covered by mud.

“I took the sheriff's daughter on a ride along. She wants to be a cop.” 

“And?”

“And Jody doesn't want her daughter to do it.”

“Why not? Isn't she a sheriff?”

“It's complicated.”

“She wants to protect her?” Dean guesses, hitting the nail on its head.

“Yeah,” Castiel says rubbing at his throat. “Jody adopted Claire after a home invasion went wrong. Claire's parents were killed. I think she wants to keep Claire away from as much violence as possible.”

“Shit,” Dean says, digging steadily. “Poor kid, still no wonder she wants to get out there.”

Castiel looks up, surprised by the empathy in Dean's voice. “What do you mean?”

Dean shrugs uncomfortably. “My Dad got into hunting because he wanted revenge on the thing that killed my mom. Me and my brother got into it because our dad trained us too but unlike Sammy, I stayed in it because I wanted to be sure that never happened to another family.” 

“Dean…”

“It's okay Cas. Most hunters have a sob story.”

Castiel sighs, “Still that must have been difficult, to say the least.”

“It is what it is,” Dean says with another shrug. “Hey think you dig for a while my arms are getting tired.”

“Okay,” Castiel says taking the shovel as Dean climbs out, only passing him the gun when they're both on equal footing.

For a while, Castiel digs in silence unsure on what to say with Dean clearly feeling so exposed. The rain continues to pour, making the muck harder to clear. After a couple of awkward shovelfuls, Castiel says, “I became a cop because I thought it looked cool.”

“What?”

“I lived with my aunt Mildred as a kid and she was really into cop shows so the interest was kinda there. But when I used to babysit the Sheriff's kids she would come back with all these stories.” Castiel shrugs, “I don't know it just seemed like a cool job when I was 18 and had no clue what to do with my life.” 

“Your serious, you thought it looked cool and that was it.”

“Yeah. I mean it's not why I stayed, I believe in what I do now. People need to be protected so that's what I do. That is when I’m not helping handsome criminals desecrate graves.”

Dean blinks, “You think I’m handsome?” He asks, earnest not coy.

Castiel squints, ”Yes Dean I thought I made that obvious.”

“Yeah - kinda - I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this.”

“Flirting?”

“Yes, at least not with, y’know guys.”

“Oh,” Castiel mutters focusing on digging instead. He had been so sure Dean had been flirting back but he never really considered it was a ploy.

“That's not saying I’m against it,” Dean says suddenly, face pink. “I’m just new to it, is all.”

“Oh,” Castiel says far more cheerfully than the last time. “How new?”

“Couple months, kinda realized all the reasons I was holding myself back were stupid macho bullshit. Or at least that's what Sarah said after she caught me looking at some dudes ass.”

Castiel laughs, pleased despite the cramping in his hands. “So you wouldn't be opposed to drinks after this? If we live of course.”

Dean smiles, soft and pleased. “Yeah, sure if we live, definitely.”

Smiling back Castiel turns back to the grave and keeps digging.

\------

In the hours it takes to dig the grave Castiel's smile has soon faded from digging. They switch of course but the rain slows them down considerably as do the shivers from the cold. Nearing the end of his turn Castiel braces himself for the squelch of mud only to find the bang of steel meeting pine.

Above him, there’s a delighted laugh. “Well, Cas, Looks like you just hit the jackpot,” Dean says, his mud-caked face smiling down at him. With an almost childish glee, Dean grabs the other shovel and carelessly drops down to join Castiel in the hole, splashing mud on his face.

Castiel glares at him. “Was that really necessary?”

“Nope,” Dean says, bumping against Castiel's shoulder. “You ready for this?” he asks, looking hesitantly at Castiel. Unaware that the change in his demeanor is stupidly endearing.

Castiel shrugs. “Not particularly.”

“It's not as bad as you think,” Dean says, smiling reassuringly. Then, without further ado, he lifts the shovel and slams it through the coffin lid.

The first thing Castiel notices is the smell, chemicals; rot and dust mix in with the petrichor of the night around them making Castiel fight the urge to sneeze. The second thing he sees is the skull yellowed and aged and it’s clothes worn away by age. Above them, the wind roars.

“Shit!” Dean yells scrabbling to get out of the grave. The wind continues to howl, sending pounding cold rain in every direction.

“What the hell is going on!” Castiel yells over the roar.

“It's the fucking ghost!” Dean yells back, rolling to his feet and picking up the shotgun.

Castiel grabs the edge of the trench and pulls himself up just as Dean takes a shot. The ghost screams. “Fucking visibility is shit in this!” He yells reloading as Castiel stands up. From the distance, he watches as the ghost advances, grey form almost invisible in the sheet of rain. Dean shoots again and this time he makes the shot, the ghost vanishes.

“Fuckers not gonna stay gone long now that he knows we’re messing with his grave. Survival instincts and all that, so get the fucking salt.”

“Will it even light in this?!” Castiel asks, just as the air wavers and the ghost appears behind its tombstone. “Dean! 12 o’clock.”

Dean shoots, Castiel ducks grabbing the duffel, ripping it open to grab the supplies. “It’ll light,” Dean says confidently lining up another shot to the right this time.

Castiel nods grabbing the salt and throwing it over the coffin lid. Dean shoots again but before he can get off another shot he's thrown backwards. “DEAN!” Castiel yells as the ghost advances on Dean sprawled against the opposite gravestone, empty-handed.

Dean sits up unsteadily, getting to his feet on shaky legs. “I’m fine Cas, just burn the bones!” He yells, Castiel nods and grabs the lighter fluid, hands slipping against the top before finally managing to loosen the nozzle. Behind him, Dean yells. Turning Castiel watches as the ghost begins to hold him up against a nearby tree. It's iridescent hand wrapped tight around Dean's throat. With no time and no weapon left to help, Castiel starts to empty the canister over the grave. Mumbling rushed c’mon c’mons under his breath as he stands up and opens the matches.

He looks back at Dean, watching as his legs flail around and his face purples and slides the match blindly across the edge. It sparks, once, twice but it doesn’t light. “Dammit!” He yells already pulling out a second match and trying again. “You just had to tempt fate with your whole ‘if we live thing’ didn’t you Castiel.” He says to himself just as the match lights.

Castiel throws the match down and behind him the ghost screams. It's whole body becoming submerged in flames. Castiel barely pays attention to it as he runs over the slippery grass only to stumble to the ground beside Dean.

“Dean? Dean? Are you alright?” He asks grabbing Dean's chin and forcing him to meet Castiel's gaze. Dean blinks heavily and clears his throat. “I think I’m good.”

“I think you're concussed.”

“I’m not, don’t worry I have a thick skull.”

“Your bleeding!” Castiel yell, swiping a bit of blood teeming from Dean's temple.

Dean grabs his hand, holding it steadily against his chin and stroking his fingers over the back. “Cas I’m fine.”

Castiel sighs relieved and leans his forehead against Dean's own. “If you wanted out of the date you could have just said no. there was no need to get yourself killed as quickly as possible.”

Dean laughs shallowly still stroking Castiel's hand soothingly. “Good cause don’t know if I’d fit in with the bar crowd looking like this anyway.”

Castiel shakes his head, smiling softly. “There's whiskey at my place.”

Dean smiles. “Okay, your place it is.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit has it been a while or has it been awhile. I'm sorry. There are a lot of reasons why this was has taking so long. I've moved house, caught a flu, had a granny in hospital, started getting smothered by A level work, got three Christmas exams and honestly have been exhausted but God am I glad this is finished because I love this fic. I loved writing every second off it, It's my favorite thing I've written and I'm so glad finishing it was the first thing I did this year because it was such a fun adventure writing this. I can't wait to start writing the sequel, hopefully it will be published some time in February I just want to write more of [A wing and a prayer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031567/chapters/37418741) first.

After gathering up Dean's gear, they wind up taking separate cars, Dean promising to follow Castiel's squad car back to his house. His head had stopped bleeding while they we’re walking and Castiel hadn’t missed the heated looks Dean had sent his way while they we’re gathering up Dean's gun. Still, Castiel worries about what’s going to happen now. Dean had insisted the ghost was gone. Had promised Castiel that he was safe now, but Castiel wants to know more. He wants to understand everything he can about ghosts, about Monsters and, most importantly, he wants to know about the man who hunts them. He wants to know what makes Dean Winchester tick. Which is a phenomenally bad idea.  
Sure he likes Dean, he's charming, brave, and one of the hottest men Castiel has ever seen - but he's not stupid. Dean's career as a hunter is clearly also one of wandering and bad decisions. The chances of Castiel even seeing him again after tonight are abysmally small.  
One night of flirting and grave digging shouldn’t be enough time for Castiel to feel as strongly as he does. He knows that. One night also shouldn't be enough for the world to spin on its axis. Yet his has. His life full of scepticism and logic was shattered the second he put Dean in that cell. And Castiel wants more. He wants everything Dean is willing to give him.  
But he can't have it, because that's not what tonight is shaping up to be. Not with the way Dean had looked at him when he got back to their cars. Like he was planning on skipping the drive and fucking Castiel in his front seat. For Dean, tonight will be about sex, maybe friendship. So that's all Castiel can ask from him. Castiel can't let Dean get under his skin any more than he already has. He’ll only end up hurting himself otherwise.

Pulling into his driveway, Castiel radio’s Nancy to tell her he's home and safe, and that he’ll bring the car back when he goes in for his shift in the morning. Nancy tells him it's fine just as Dean's car pulls in behind his. Putting the radio down, Castiel gets out and looks at Dean, as he does the same. He’s cleaned his face in the car but there's still dirt on his clothes. Fresh blood drips down his cheek. “Don't freak out,” he says preemptively.

Castiel frowns, walking towards him and grabbing his chin. Tilting Dean's head towards the streetlight for a better look. “What happened?”

“I scraped it with the cloth while washing up and it opened again. I’ll be fine in a second,” he says with a shrug, like a head wound is no big deal.

Castiel glares at him. “I'm getting the first aid kit,” he says, marching for the door.

Dean scoffs, “Seriously, I’ll wipe it clean and it will be good as new, stop fussing.”

Castiel ignores him, opening the door and rushing inside. Dean follows him nonchalantly. Castiel goes straight for the first aid kit under the kitchen sink, pulling it out and then washing his hands free of grave dirt. Splashing some water up onto his face as well before drying his face and his neck with paper towels.

When he looks back, Dean's staring at his bookshelf with mild interest. He points at a picture frame. “Is this you?” he asks, stunned. Not that Castiel can blame him. The photos from years ago, back when Castiel was an angry teen with dyed black hair and darker clothes. Mildred's arms wrapped casually around him at some fair. Castiel flushes and grabs the whiskey from the kitchen. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“You were the goth kid?” he asks, almost mocking. Castiel shrugs.

“More like the angry kid. I acted out a lot.”

“You too, huh?” Dean asks, fingers tapping on the shelf. “Any particular reason why?” Castiel pours them both a glass of whiskey. Taking a sip as Dean sits down, staring at Cas with wide curious eyes.

“My parents kicked me out,” he says simply, preparing himself for the reaction Dean's going to give him. Like most people, Dean's face turns sympathetic - but not pitying. Castiel shouldn't be surprised, though. Not with the life he’s had. If anything, Dean probably resents pity more than Castiel does.

“Why?”

“Because they were cliches,” Castiel says with a humourless laugh, taking another drink. “Found me kissing some boy, got mad because of religion. I got mad because I didn't see the problem. They decided I was wrong, and if I didn't fix my ways I wouldn't be welcome in their home. So I packed my shit and got on a Greyhound to South Dakota to go visit my excommunicated aunt with the hopes that she’d understand. Been here ever since.”

“Why weren't they talking to Mildred?”

“She got divorced.” Dean raises an eyebrow. “I know, I know, my parents were old school. I probably should have waited till college to start experimenting, but I was tired of hiding it.”

Dean picks up his own glass. “Hey, I’m not judging. Honestly, I think you're pretty fucking brave. I never told my dad about the whole bi thing. Honestly, if he was still alive, I doubt I’d ever been brave enough to try it.”

“Brave enough to hunt a ghost, though.”

Dean laughs, “No, that's just me being stupid.”

“Or noble,” Castiel says, bumping their shoulders together.

Dean smiles. “Yeah, well - stupid, noble and injured should be my catchphrase at this point.” the reminder of Dean's wound makes Castiel puts his glass down. Glaring at Dean's head wound. Dean sighs, “I swear the cut’s not that bad.”

Castiel bites his lip and opens up the first aid kit. He starts by tentatively brushing an antiseptic wipe over the side of Dean's face to clear the blood. Thankfully, the wound has stopped bleeding again, and when Castiel wipes it clean he sees it smaller than he expected. “Maybe you're right,” he mutters, cleaning the edges. “But I’d like to be sure.”

Dean glances at him from the corner of his eye, a stubborn frown forming in his brow. “You don't have to take care of me, Cas.”

“I’d like to,” Castiel says honestly. To honestly, for what their situation demands. Dean blinks. While Castiel pulls his hand back like he’s been shot, dropping the wipe onto the table beside his whiskey. “I'm sorry, that was...” Stupid, uncalled for, far too intimate for what is really shaping up to be a one-night stand. “Forward,” he settles on, not meeting Dean's eye.

Dean doesn't seem worried about Castiel's clinginess, though. Instead, he just looks at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from the cold. Rain drips from his hair and runs down his cheek. “If you really want to take care of me, you should help me warm up first,” he says teasingly.

Castiel flushes, “Oh shit, of course. I’ll get you dry clothes, hold on,” he rambles, standing up.

Dean tightens his grip on Castiel's wrist, pulling him closer. “Not what I meant, Cas,” he says, and then suddenly Dean's kissing him. Relieved, Castiel sighs into it, greedily licking into Dean's mouth and gripping his shoulder tight.

Dean pulls back, teeth nipping at Castiel's jaw. “You don't do subtle, do you, Cas?”

“Not often, no,” Castiel gasps, finding Dean's mouth again, sliding his hand over the soaking material of Dean's shirt to thumb at his neck. Dean shivers. “We should actually try to get warm, though.”

Dean smiles, “I’m told exercise is great at that kind of thing.”

“Sex is exercise now,” Castiel laughs lightly, kissing Dean's cheek, his jaw, the hollow of his throat.

Dean arches his neck, letting Castiel explore some more. “Yeah man. Hell, it's the only exercise you’ll find me doing willingly.”

Castiel resists the urge to roll his eyes, “I was thinking more along the lines of a shower.” he says, nipping lightly on the tendon of Dean's neck. Dean sighs arching into Castiels touch.

Gripping Castiel's hair Dean pulls him up so he can kiss at Castiel's mouth. “Shower sex can be complicated.” Dean says, kissing along Cas’s stubble.

This time, Castiel doesn't fight it, just rolls his eyes as he grabs at Dean's shirt. “I have a big shower.”

Dean grins, allowing himself to be dragged along by his wet shirt as Castiel pulls him into his room. Smiling easily now, Castiel untucks Dean's shirt, thumbing the surprising softness of Dean's stomach before unbuttoning his jeans. Dean groans as Castiel lightly runs the back of his hand over the forming bulge in his underwear.

Grabbing his shoulder, Dean kisses Castiel again. It's not like the soft teasing kiss from the couch. This one is jaw aching and clearly about seduction. Dean kisses him slowly and expertly till Castiel is panting and wide-eyed, gripping tightly at Dean's hip. Unbuttoning Castiel's shirt, Dean pushes him back until they hit the bathroom door. Castiel moans into Dean's mouth, pushing Dean's pants further down his hips. “You’re gonna have to let me move to get in there, you know?” Castiel says as Dean kisses under his ear.

Dean chuckles, low and unbelievably sexy against Castiel's throat. “I assumed as much,” he says, finishing the buttons on Castiel's shirt and then pulling back, taking all his intoxicating heat with him. Castiel sighs, leaning back against the door for a second just to watch Dean pull his wet shirt over his head. His torso is smooth and pale, covered in freckles and scars. There’s a small pentacle tattoo on his pectoral. Castiel licks his lips and reaches out to rub at it with his thumb. “Hunter thing?” he asks.

Dean shakes his head. “Demon thing, keeps them from possessing you.”

“Demons are real?” Castiel asks, voice shaking.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, gently grabbing Castiel's chin. “They're pretty rare though, you don’t have to worry about them.”

Closing his eyes, Castiel takes a steadying breath. There’s so much he’s learned tonight that’s terrifying, but there’s also Dean, who hunts those terrifying things and is currently gently stroking his chin. “If you say so,” Castiel says, opening his eyes. He kisses Dean's thumb, then turns and opens the bathroom door, refusing to look at Dean until he's got the water in his shower running, nice and hot without distraction.

When he looks back, Dean's fighting with his shoestring. Castiel smiles, tension draining from his shoulder as Dean mutters under his breath. It seems impossible that someone could be so dangerous and endearing at the same time, and Castiel is honestly hopelessly infatuated with him because of it. Banishing thoughts of monsters and demons from his mind, Castiel shrugs his shirt off his shoulders and kicks off his boots. Dean pouts. “Show off,” he mutters, smiling triumphantly as the knot finally starts to ease. Castiel laughs, stripping off his pants and boxers in one go before climbing over the tub and into the spray, grabbing at the shampoo.

Dean look’s up just as Castiel's rubbing suds through his hair and curses, pulling his boot of viciously before stripping almost as quickly as Castiel did. His cock, curling up hard and pretty against his stomach. Castiel steps further into the spray, giving Dean room to climb in. “Took you long enough,” he smiles, blinking water out of his eye.

Dean shoves at his shoulder. “Shut up and pass me some shampoo. I think I’ve got grass in my hair.” Castiel passes him the bottle and for a second their shower almost feels chaste. Domestic, even. They just clean themselves, occasionally looking at the way gravedirt and mud slide down the other’s skin. Baiting each other with a raised eyebrow or a smile, to see who will reach out first.

“You missed a spot,” Dean says, voice low, while Castiel's rinses his hair.

Castiel grins innocently, “Where?”

Dean looks down “Here,” he says, reaching out, running his fingers down Castiel's dick. Finally taking him into his hand. Castiel moans. “I could clean it for you, if you want.”

“Yes, fuck,” Castiel gasps, grabbing Dean's shoulders to steady himself before pushing him up against the tile. Dean smiles and grips him tight, making Castiel moan into Dean’s wet skin, slick and warm under his mouth. Dean kisses below Castiel ear again. “You are ridiculously hot right now,” he rumbles under his breath.

Castiel places a soft kiss on the bruise forming on Dean's neck, sliding his hand to the dip of Dean's spine. “I’ve only been in here for like five minutes.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You know what I meant,” he says, using his other hand to grab Castiel's ass and pull him closer until he can roll his cock against Castiel's hip. “How the hell does a deputy get built like a brick house, anyway?”

Castiel slowly fucks Dean's hand while kissing down his neck. “If I hadn't had to dig a grave today, I could probably lift you,” he says against Dean's throat. Dean’s eyes flutter as he moans, arching impossibly closer to Castiel. Close enough until he can grab himself inside his fist, too, the slick skin of their dicks sliding together.

“Fuck grave digging, man,” Dean says with feeling. Castiel smiles and kisses Dean's slack mouth. “I really want to suck you off,” Castiel says, placing biting kisses along Dean’s jaw. Dean whines. “I’m just not sure my knees could handle the tile right now.”

“Told you shower sex was — ugh — complicated,” Dean says, thrusting up into his hand. Castiel makes an agreeable sound, sucking a mark behind Dean's ear. Dean pants, “Maybe we should go to your — a — bedroom instead.”

“Good plan,” Castiel says, finishing the bruise. Turning off the shower, he mourns the loss of Dean's hand around his cock when he lets them both go. Climbing out, Dean heads towards the bedroom, Castiel following him, admiring his ass along the way. Dean looks over his shoulder and smiles.

“Lie down,” Castiel tells him softly as soon as they reach his bed.

Dean does, spreading his long freckled legs without shame. Climbing in between them, Castiel runs his palm up Dean's leg, kissing at goosebumps and using his tongue against the raised edge of an old scar. Above it, he sucks another bruise into the inside of Dean's thigh.

“Fuck,” Dean sighs, taking himself in hand. Castiel looks up at him, taking in his moans, the flush of his skin and the way his freckles and scars stand out against it, his tattoo dark. He’s so beautiful, and he’s gonna drive Castiel crazy with want before this is over. Patting Dean's hand away from his dick, Castiel places one last kiss over his mark, then moves on, taking just the tip of Dean's cock into his mouth. Dean moans, fighting to still his hips as Castiel sucks on his cockhead.

With each lick, Dean sighs and groans shamelessly about what he likes and — God, Castiel wants to wreak him, but he’s forced to pace himself. Not wanting to risk choking with his bruised throat. Unable to take Dean as deep as he knows he's capable of, Castiel looks for other ways to drive Dean wild. Rolling his balls and occasionally teasing Dean's slit with his tongue.

When he’s practically writhing on the bed, Dean starts to babble, little gasped things like “Cas” and “Yeah, like that” as Castiel starts to take him deeper, gripping Dean's thigh. He eventually winds up with one hand tangled in Castiel's hair, the other playing with his own nipples. Castiel moans at the sight of him, making Dean whine again. “Holy shit, Cas,” he pants. “The mouth on you.”

Encouraged, Castiel groans again, making Dean tighten his grip in his hair. Keeping his rhythm slow, Castiel starts humming at random moments just to drive Dean crazy. Dean starts to thrust shallowly, not enough to be fucking Castiel's mouth, but enough for Castiel to see how close he is. But then Dean backs up, gasping, “Close, Cas. So — ah — fucking close — shit.” He starts loosening his grip in Castiel's hair, probably giving Castiel the chance to pull off. Castiel doesn't take it, though. He just pulls Dean in deeper, and then, with a choked off whine, Dean starts to come down Castiel's throat. Castiel sucks him through it, till Dean's shivering, oversensitive and gasping for air.

It's only then that Castiel pulls back, breathing heavily over Dean's stomach. Dean looks down at him, dazed, and reaches down to pull Castiel up by his shoulder. Kissing the taste of himself out of Castiel's mouth. “What do you want?” Dean asks, nipping at his jaw. His hand moving down between Castiel's legs.

Castiel moans. “Just this,” he says, turned on beyond belief from Dean coming apart under him. Dean jacks him off eagerly. Grip tight as he kisses Castiel's cheek, his chest, takes one of his nipples into his mouth while Castiel groans and clings to his back. He pants and gasps with each movement of Dean's hand. Dean starts slicking precome along Castiel’s cock as he mutters sweet words and phrases into Castiel's ear; about how brave he was at the grave, how hot he looked in his uniform, and now, between Dean's legs. Until Castiel just has to kiss him. Again and again, until the band inside him snaps and he comes, dizzy and hot in the space between them, Dean's name spilling out of his mouth. Dean kisses his forehead, then collapses back against the pillow with a laugh.

Castiel frowns. “Laughter isn't usually the expected reaction I have to face after an orgasm.”

Dean laughs harder. “Sorry man, it's not you. It's just all that effort to convince me to shower, only too wind up dirty again.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “There are wipes in the nightstand.”

Dean smiles thankfully, checking the drawer and wiping his stomach. Castiel lies down beside him. his eyes heavy. Dean, now clean, thumps his head down on Castiel's chest, sighing contentedly. “I didn't peg you for a cuddler,” Castiel says, smiling softly as he wraps his arms around Dean back, feeling more than seeing it when Dean shrugs.

“I'm a lot of things,” Dean says, sighing contentedly.

Castiel kisses his hair. “Goodnight Dean,” he breathes, holding on tight. Dean sighs softly, already asleep.

===  
When Castiel wakes up, it's to an empty bed.

He spends far too long glaring at the empty space, unsure why he expected any different. Dean's life hasn't changed the way Castiel's has. Castiel's first ghost had been just one in a long line of hunts for Dean. And as for Castiel's part in it, he’s simply a one night stand. Maybe even a good memory from a shitty night. And it's not like Castiel can blame him. He's had his fair share of one night stands in the past after finishing a case. He knows what flirting and adrenaline do. He's not even upset about it, because he wanted Dean just as badly as Dean had wanted him. He's just got to get it into his head now that want is all their night together had been about.

Groaning, Castiel pushes the covers off his shoulders and starts rifling through his drawers. His muscles ache from last night's exercise. Determined to put Dean out of his mind with work if he has to, Castiel changes into his uniform quickly, then wanders into the bathroom and makes a point of not looking at the shower. He brushes away the gross taste of morning-after breath and stares in fascination at the bruise developing on his throat. Deciding to do up the top button of his shirt and grab his tie to avoid questions, Castiel wanders into the living room, fighting with the tie.

It's only then that he spots Dean kneeling beside his doormat.

Dean looks up at him, red spray paint in hand, and smiles. “Morning Sunshine,” he says chirply, a pentagram drying on the floor beside him.

Castiel raises his eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that's destruction of private property.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Deputy. You gonna throw me in jail for giving your house some protection?”

“Maybe,” Castiel says, trying to hide his relief at Dean still being here behind a smirk. “What’s it do?”

Dean grins, standing up and brushing his hands on his jeans. “Traps Demons. I noticed you seemed spooked by them last night, so I figured — why not. This might help you sleep a bit easier.”

“I slept pretty well last night.”

Dean smirks. “Yeah, well, digging a grave can tire you out.”

“So can really good sex.”

Dean laughs, wrapping his arms around Castiel's hip. “Is that so?” he asks, breath hot over Castiel's mouth.

Castiel sighs. “Definity,” he says, just before Dean kisses him, soft and relaxed, seemingly entirely at ease in Castiel's arms.  


“You have work today?” Dean asks when they part.

“Unfortunately.”

Dean sighs. “Guess I should get out of your hair, then?” he asks like he thinks he could ever be unwanted here. Like Castiel wants him to go.

Castiel shakes his head. “You don’t have to,” he says, then considers what would happen if he didn't go in today. Jody would probably come looking for him, especially if she thinks he’s sick — and Castiel can only imagine her rage if she saw him playing hooky with last night’s prisoner. He bites his lip. “At least not right away. Have coffee with me?”

“Okay,” Dean smiles, letting go of Castiel so they can move to the kitchen and turn on the coffee pot, ignoring the mess of the first aid kit and whiskey glasses on the coffee table for now. Castiel spots a duffle by the doorway, then looks over at Dean, clad in a new flannel and jeans. “Did you get out of bed to go get new clothes?”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah I woke up, couldn't get back to sleep, and it’s not like I could put something that mud stained on and drive to see Sam in New York.”

“You going to take some time off then?” Castiel asks, pouring them both of them a mug of coffee.

Dean blinks surprised and takes the mug tentatively. “Yeah — I, ah, I’m only seeing him for a few days before going after a highway ghost in Alberta. It only appears during new moon, which is weird, but probably important.”

“Sounds fun,” Castiel says into his mug, resisting the urge to sigh. He knew Dean was going to go as soon as the case was done, he has no right to be sad over it.

Dean sips his coffee and shrugs. “Yeah maybe,” he mutters.

They both drink coffee in silence, and it's almost painfully awkward. Dean keeps glancing at his duffle, clearly ready to go, and Castiel doesn't know what to say anymore. He just wants Dean to stay. He looks over at the drying pentagram.

"Dean?" he asks, finishing off his coffee. "What am I supposed to do with a trapped demon?"

Dean blinks, "Uh, well, you gotta exorcise it — which you don't know how to do..." he sighs, tapping at his mug. "I could leave you my number. Y'know, just in case."

Castiel raises an eyebrow. "Just in case of demons?"

Dean licks his lips. "Well, yeah. Unless you — ah — want to call me. For, well, anything else, really."

Castiel smiles, "Okay, sure."

"Really?" he asks, surprised as if no one ever wants him around the morning after. Castiel nods. "Well, you know, I'm actually in Sioux Falls a lot because of Bobby, so maybe I could call you next time I'm in town."

"I'd like that," Castiel says with a grin. Dean's mouth tastes like coffee when Castiel kisses him goodbye.

 

+++  
That night, long after Dean has gone and Jody and Claire bullied him over meatloaf, Castiel gets a text.

_I'll see you around, Deputy._

Castiel smiles at the ceiling before writing his reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, pew. First installment done, I loved this fic, seriously its been my baby for like four months. I just really love writing early season Dean and AU versions of Cas idk. I just like the Idea they will always fall in love. I'm a sap, If you couldn't tell by that last chapter. Anyway I made this like [inspiration board](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/wingsandimpalas/salt-and-burn/) really early on cause I'm a very visual person and like have an idea of what I'm writing about I also had this [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4WeDcX13wAXrPatnlrSD31) playing sporadically while I was writing this so If you want to listen please do. If you want to reach out to me, see my progress in the series or scream at me about the feelings I gave you, you can find me on [tumblr.](https://wingsandimpalas.tumblr.com/) Thank you for reading, I love all of you!


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